"Upon my bed at night
I sought him whom my soul loves;
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer" [1]
(Song of Solomon 3:1, NRSV).

Most people look forward to bedtime - to crash beneath the sheets and slip away into slumber, to then wake up the next morning feeling handsomely refreshed and equipped for a new day. But not everybody looks forward to nighttime, and certainly not the lover in this biblical poem, who misses her absent love. Free of the distractions of the day, the heart becomes filled with its own preoccupations. For many people, the nighttime is tragically the worst part of the day.

Many of you are wrestling with debilitating and often life-threatening illnesses, for whom the night is a time of either terror or loneliness. You toss and you turn but sleep eludes you. For some the cause may be physical pain; for others, psychological anxiety about one thing or another. I am writing this at 4.30 am. My body is screaming for sleep, I can hardly keep my eyes open, and I think it is unfair to wake my wife up to have someone to talk with and be prayed for, for she too needs her sleep.

Most nights are lone vigils with pain caused by fibromyalgia. The 'best' drugs, which are in reality poisons that simply mask the symptoms and are making you worse (by assaulting the liver or causing stomach bleeding) give me maybe 4-5 hours temporary relief if I can get to sleep within the time frame, but the reality is that window or time keeps shrinking. I suppose it's some kind of bodily resistance. I sleep a lot sitting in chairs when I can but that brings added problems for what is an unnatural sleeping position. I grab an hour here and an hour there whenever I can.

I have found a companion in recent weeks since my operation in the late Elisabeth Elliot's books. She learned the secret of intimacy with Elohim (God) in spite of a life filled with tribulation. I bought her books a few years ago, nudged by the Ruach (Spirit) to do so, but never started reading them until now. They were too radical for my liking, too disquieting for one who wanted a life of quiet and undisturbed discipleship. What I like about her is she has a well rounded view of Scripture - she both has a heart for Yahweh and people as well as a realistic appraisal of life. And she pulls no punches. Not only is life full of suffering but it was meant to be full of suffering, even for talmidim (disciples), says she!

Now who wants to hear that? Certainly not the deceived purveyors of the 'health and wealth' gospel, certainly not those liars who tell you that Yahweh loves you so much that He'll never let you get sick or poor and who has a plan to whisk you away in a Hollywood-type rapture when the going gets tough. Oh no. Elisabeth Elliot never acknowledged nor ever knew such a pie-in-the-sky deity. She knew the real Elohim (God).

When I first started reading her, I panicked, quite frankly. Literally. I was home, fresh out of hospital, very weak and looking for comfort amidst one of the physically most traumatic experiences of my life. The first book of hers that I read triggered me left, right and centre. My flesh was outraged, the false securities I was clinging onto were ripped out my hand, and I floundered! I hated what I read. The pity-party apparatus was denied me. The soap box was...gone. Here was I, already physically miserable from a heart operation, having nightly panic attacks owing to reduced breathing capacity (as I got a 'flu bug on top of everything else making everything hell), and yet there she was - this Christian woman - praising Yahweh and finding tremendous strength and shalom (peace) and confidence in Him, just after her husband and four of their best friends had been murdered by savages for whom they had voluntarily laid down their lives. I slammed the book closed, appalled at my own carnality, outraged that I was not going to get away with my alternative, 'improved' plan of discipleship. I was offended and scared.

But I knew she was authentic, oh yes, I knew that alright. Her life was its own witness, not so much the things the said or the scriptures she quoted, but the genuine way she was. This lady had it all together. This was no play-acting. She had "the peace of Elohim (God), which passeth all understanding"; she had what it takes to "keep your hearts and minds through Messiah Yah'shua (Christ Jesus)" (Phil.4:7, KJV). She kept going - confidently and majestically - where others would have crumbled. And that, if you're honest and hungry enough, is irresistable. 'This,' I said to myself, 'is a truly surrendered woman. This I cannot ignore.'

The woman from the Song of Solomon sought for her lover but could not find him. She was alone. Why was she alone? Because she was self-absorbed. Yet her absent Lover, long recognised by biblical commentators as a picture or allegory of the Saviour Himself, does not answer to egotism. What is the whole purpose of our emunah (faith) - our religion - if it isn't to adore and give glory to the One who died on the cross for our sins in the greatest act of cosmic sacrificial love ever? If all we're doing is seeking to be pampered or spoiled, then we've completely missed it, and the relationship is skewed. Our worship and adoration must come first, then the Bride is rightly related.

Endnotes

[1] The last line of this verse is absent in the Hebrew Masoretic text but present in the Greek LXX